1. If you're constantly walking with your head down, everyone can see your bald spot.
2. If you can smell your socks through your shoes, those around you can too.
3. Rubbing the inside of your nose with your thumb is still considered picking your nose.
4. If the person you are talking to is constantly turning their head away, chances are good that your breath reeks.
5. Just because you're wearing clean underwear doesn't give you the right to drive like an asshole.
6. If you stop to tie your shoe, make sure your ass is out of the way of traffic.
7. It is possible to fall up the stairs so quit running.
8. When someone says "hold the elevator", they don't mean grab that little steel bar inside and watch the doors shut, they actually mean to hold the doors.
9. Plaque is not always an award, it's often the reason you should brush your teeth.
10. Your eyes won't get stuck by simply rolling them, but they may get poked out by doing so.
Tuesday
Saturday
Rescue On Aisle Three
I absolutely despise Walmart. It is always crowded and full of idiotic people doing idiotic things. If it wasn’t for the fact that my coffee is more than half the price there than at the grocery store, I’d never step into one. But me without coffee is like Joan Rivers without Botox – not going to happen. Needless to say, I try to make each trip as quick as possible.
Yesterday was an exception.
I had already grabbed the coffee and was heading to check out when I heard someone fussing. Glancing around, I caught sight of a lady giving a young boy a piece of her mind. I tried to ignore them, but the bitch was too loud. She was apparently pissed that the boy had been staring at her tits. She went on and on about his lack of manners (among other shit). Noticing the boy’s embarrassment and the lady’s lack of clothing, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I walked over to them, gave the guy a quick wink, and grabbed his arm affectionately. I asked what seemed to be the problem. The bitch explained the situation. When she was done, I explained that “my man” was just being a man. If she didn’t want guys checking out her tits, she needed to cover them up in the future. I also informed her that she could benefit from a bra with better support as her girls didn’t seem as perky as they could be. I then pulled “my man” away and proceeded to check out. The guy was so grateful that he paid for my coffee.
See, I'm not a total manhater.
Yesterday was an exception.
I had already grabbed the coffee and was heading to check out when I heard someone fussing. Glancing around, I caught sight of a lady giving a young boy a piece of her mind. I tried to ignore them, but the bitch was too loud. She was apparently pissed that the boy had been staring at her tits. She went on and on about his lack of manners (among other shit). Noticing the boy’s embarrassment and the lady’s lack of clothing, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I walked over to them, gave the guy a quick wink, and grabbed his arm affectionately. I asked what seemed to be the problem. The bitch explained the situation. When she was done, I explained that “my man” was just being a man. If she didn’t want guys checking out her tits, she needed to cover them up in the future. I also informed her that she could benefit from a bra with better support as her girls didn’t seem as perky as they could be. I then pulled “my man” away and proceeded to check out. The guy was so grateful that he paid for my coffee.
See, I'm not a total manhater.
Labels:
cause I could
Thursday
Mailbox Mayhem
My mailbox has been hit by a car repeatedly for the last several weeks. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to straighten it back up and fill it in with more dirt. It got to the point that I was utterly pissed and although I knew who was doing it, I didn’t know how to prove it.
That was until yesterday.
Still fuming over having it hit again, I was cleaning out my pantry. I came across an expired jar of honey. A light bulb went off and I knew exactly what to do.
I immediately went outside and coated the box with all the glory gooiness. I then sat back and waited. It wasn’t but a few hours when I realized the box was leaning yet again. I grabbed my camera and marched my ass across the street. Just as I had taken the first picture, my neighbor opened the door and asked what the hell I was doing to which I responded getting proof.
He then approaches me looking as if he were about to bite my head off. I begin to explain myself:
"You see, I am sick and tired of having to fix my damn mailbox. I do have better things to do with my time (like plot my husband’s murder) so I had to take matters into my own hands. You see this here (I say as I am pointing to the big glob of honey on his truck), this proves you are the asshole that’s been driving me insane the last several weeks. I coated the box in honey and the proof is on your truck. May I suggest the next time you run into it, you fix it your damn self or I will turn this evidence over to the proper authorities."
I then marched my ass right back home, poured myself a cold beer, and began watching Melrose Place (don't judge me -- nothing else was on). I slept well knowing the honey didn’t actually go to waste and I wouldn’t have this problem again.
That was until yesterday.
Still fuming over having it hit again, I was cleaning out my pantry. I came across an expired jar of honey. A light bulb went off and I knew exactly what to do.
I immediately went outside and coated the box with all the glory gooiness. I then sat back and waited. It wasn’t but a few hours when I realized the box was leaning yet again. I grabbed my camera and marched my ass across the street. Just as I had taken the first picture, my neighbor opened the door and asked what the hell I was doing to which I responded getting proof.
He then approaches me looking as if he were about to bite my head off. I begin to explain myself:
"You see, I am sick and tired of having to fix my damn mailbox. I do have better things to do with my time (like plot my husband’s murder) so I had to take matters into my own hands. You see this here (I say as I am pointing to the big glob of honey on his truck), this proves you are the asshole that’s been driving me insane the last several weeks. I coated the box in honey and the proof is on your truck. May I suggest the next time you run into it, you fix it your damn self or I will turn this evidence over to the proper authorities."
I then marched my ass right back home, poured myself a cold beer, and began watching Melrose Place (don't judge me -- nothing else was on). I slept well knowing the honey didn’t actually go to waste and I wouldn’t have this problem again.
Labels:
cause I could
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